Count Your Blessings
by bulletproofweeks
Summary: Amber's dead and now House is having to deal with a greater demon... himself. Will Wilson come to save him or is this the end? House/Wilson Friendship, House/Cuddy Friendship, Angst, Drama, Suspense, Hurt/Comfort, Discontinued
1. Contrition

**Count Your Blessings**

Chapter 1: Contrition

_You should be dead._

"I know."

_She'd be alive if you hadn't called…if you hadn't gone to that damn bar, but you just had to drink away your misery, didn't you?_

"I know. I know. What do you want from me?"

_She's dead because of you._

"I kno-"

_Is that all you can say? 'I know'?_

"Yeah, actually, it is."

_Don't you feel any guilt?_

"I wouldn't be talking to you if I didn't."

_You can't fix this. You've finally pushed it too far. He'll never speak to you again._

"I know, I know. I screwed up."

_Screwed up? You killed someone! You killed Amber!_

"What the hell do you want from me?"

_He wishes you were dead instead of her. I saw it in his eyes when he came to visit you in the hospital. You saw it too._

"Can you please just shut up? I can't deal with this."

_You can't deal with anything. That fact is what got us into this mess. You can't deal with the pain, so you develop a drug addiction. You can't deal with your miserable life, so you decide to get drunk. You don't deserve him. You never have._

"Please… I didn't mean for any of this to happen…I didn't ask her to come."

_But you got on the bus._

"I didn't ask her to come."

_But she did._

"I left my cane…she came to give it back."

_Yeah…, blame it on the handicap. You killed her._

"I know…, but I tried to save her. I almost died trying to save her."

_Wilson didn't seem to care. You still killed her._

"He does care. He's Wilson. He always cares."

_Not anymore. He hasn't even called._

"He cares…"

_Why don't you ask him?_

"Stop this. Please, stop this."

_What exactly do you plan on doing now? Are you really going back to work? He'll be there as a constant reminder._

"I don't know…"

_Isn't that a first… don't go back. Never leave this apartment._

"What are you saying?"

_Remember the bus? No pain…_

"Shut up. I'm not… I'm not going to kill myself."

_Why not? What's left to live for?_

"…I-I don't know." The truth is out in the open and all it took was an abusive little voice in my head to extract it. Actually, on a normal day, hearing a voice that sounds eerily like Wilson pressure me to kill myself would worry me, but I was far too busy to worry. How can I, when the voice is telling the truth? The voice isn't lying or trying to achieve a hidden agenda… it's just telling the cold, blunt truth. I have nothing to live for.

Now I know that statement comes across as a little overdramatic, but… it's the truth. Either that or it's the sudden onset depression that just happened to coincide with being released from the hospital after killing my best friend's girlfriend. Actually, I'd been arguing with the voice for days now and I'd already run through all the 'what ifs.' She's dead. I've accepted that. I just don't know what the hell I'm going to do now.

Suddenly the voice is quiet, but I still feel the presence of its words. I know I must be hallucinating and hallucinations have always been my mind's way of working out problems. Normally my mind creates elaborate puzzles, but this time… my mind just gives me the answer. Kill yourself. Apparently my subconscious thinks it's the only answer and I can't help but reluctantly agree.

I've considered myself many things, but never suicidal. In other words, this is new territory for me and I have no idea what to do. I don't want to die or at least I think I don't. I can't really tell anymore. All I know is that my eyes are fixated on those pills and I keep thinking how easy it would be to just…

I pull back my hand, a look of genuine fear in my swollen eyes. I've been crying…something I never do, especially since it wasn't even my girlfriend. I never really noticed how much I needed Wilson. I knew I'd be devastated if he finally left, but this is more than I can bear. Every time my world falls to pieces, I always have Wilson by my side. This time he hates me and… I don't really have much to live for.

I'm suicidal and I know I need to stop myself before I lose control. My first instinct is to call Wilson…, but I'm not sure whether that would even help. First, I'm probably the last person he'd want to hear from and second… what if the voice was right?

I pressed my palms to my temples in an attempt to soothe the throbbing in my head, but to no avail. Images of killing myself filter through my mind and suddenly I decide I need to get out of this apartment, but where can I go?

The Hospital.

**Next Chapter: Aversion**


	2. Aversion

Chapter 2: Aversion

No one's yelled at me yet… in other words Cuddy hasn't spotted me yet. She's, for once, not looking for me, seeing as I have the week off, but just in case, I'm hiding in the one place she'll never look.

"House! What are you doing in the clinic?" Her piercing voice called across the clinic, already making a scene. Maybe hiding right in front of her office wasn't the best idea, but then again I guess I wanted to see her in a way. It gives me something to do… something to drown out the voice.

"Catching up of course. I've come to miss this place." I declared loudly, while patting the counter for sentimental flare. She frowned… she's always frowning nowadays. Cuddy moved through the crowd of patients, so as to minimize the number of innocent causalities.

"House, you _must_ be sick if you're actually volunteering yourself for clinic duty…" She joked, but her eyes betrayed her deepened worry. She sighed and used gestures to express her exasperation. "What can I do to make you rest?" Cuddy almost-almost pleaded. I, of course, didn't give in to her caring blue eyes.

"Hm…" I pretended to ponder her question and she frowned again. "Nothing I can think of that's legal." I quipped with a smirk.

"House, you were in a coma yesterday!" She exclaimed while on the brink of losing her temper. Even the clinic patients were trying to hide their interest in the newest form of entertainment.

"Actually the day before yesterday." I countered without a wasted breath.

"Same point!" She almost yelled, then realized her volume, and continued quietly yet urgently, "You need to rest. I've let you run around long enough and I won't hesitate to send you home with two security guards this time." She threatened and this time I knew she meant it. "Now please, go home and let your head recover. You can come back to work in a week." Cuddy begged…not almost begged, but really and truly begged. Something about the desperation in her voice threw me off guard and suddenly a word escaped my lips.

"I…" I stumbled, for once unsure of how to proceed or what the hell I wanted to say.

"What?" Cuddy looked at me with renewed interest, knowing instantly that I was hiding something important.

"I can't do that." I answered without much thought. My mind and my mouth didn't seem to be cooperating for the first time in my life.

"Why not?" Cuddy frowned with worry and unshielded concern. She obviously sensed that something was seriously wrong, but how could I tell her? She'd make a huge deal out of it. She might suspend me or, even worse, she'll try to help. I knew she would jump on it immediately and then strive to be my savior by sending me to therapy and prescribing anti-depressants...and that's not what I need.

So how do I tell her?

I don't.

"If you want me to rest… I'll rest here." I leveled.

"House… why do you make everything harder than it has to be?" She asked, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"I promise I'll be good, Mommy." I jabbed, hoping she'd drop her fruitless pursuit.

"Yeah… right." She said sarcastically. "I'm not going to let you sleep in your office all day. First, I don't trust you and second, you need _bed _rest. If you still refuse to go home then I'll admit you." She meant the last part as a threat, but it turned out to be exactly what I wanted.

"Fine." I replied curtly with a toothy grin. She was surprised; obviously assuming I'd fight the idea.

"Fine?" She questioned.

"Yeah, admit me to the hospital." I shrugged calmly. Now she definitely knew something was up.

"House…" Cuddy started hesitantly, "Are you okay?" She gave me a funny look as if I was a stranger. "If you're experiencing any symptoms of your head injury…you need to tell me." She stated hopefully.

"I'm fine… I…" My mouth was running again and my head was starting to throb. "It's not a symptom of the head injury." I finished, wishing she'd shut up.

"House, you don't look too good…what's going on?" Cuddy asked hesitantly. Her voice sounded distant and suddenly the room was tipping slightly, but I wasn't going to give in yet.

"Look, just… trust me." I pleaded, trying to maintain my balance.

"No." She answered bluntly, her face suddenly contorted in anger. "I'm not going to just take this on faith! If something's wrong I need to know." She pressured forcefully, once again catching me off guard.

"You'll… over react…" The words simply escaped my lips and were suddenly beyond my control.

"House, I'm not going to admit you unless you tell me." Cuddy continued, finding a break in my armor. She reached out her hand helpfully and her eyes were full of worry, but her voice was merciless or at least from my broken perspective.

"Never mind." I finally steadied myself and gained control of my thoughts… or so I reasoned. I was suddenly angry and it was all directed at the dean of medicine. My voice came out in a rush, but was brimming with hate. "How bout I drive myself to the nearest bar, get drunk, and then maybe I'll kill _your_ boyfriend this time?" I spit out the words. _So much for having control…_ "Then you'd wish you'd trusted me." I sneered while turning on my heel and heading out the double doors.

So that was what this was really about.

_She's dead because of you._

"House." I heard her voice call out from behind me. She was following me, yet her voice was distant again. I couldn't distinguish the word, only the familiar tone, "House!" The second time she called out more forcefully, but my mind still couldn't process the word. My mind couldn't process anything. I wasn't sure where I was or even where I was going. _Damn concussion._

"No." I said, not sure what I was answering to. "I just… just needed one damn favor and you couldn't even-even do that for me." I stumbled, both in thought and movement. _Great now I'm delusional_, I thought trying to focus on where I was.

"House… I'm sorry." I turned sharply to face her and found my world suddenly spinning in an episode of vertigo.

"Go to hell." I couldn't really hear her anymore… suddenly my cane was beyond my grip and a hand was clasping on to my shirt for dear life. I didn't have control and it scared me. I had no idea where I was or what I was doing and I began to panic. I shut my eyes and held on to the figure beside me, who I guessed was Cuddy. I hoped it was Cuddy.

* * *

I knew someone was watching. It's that strange unexplainable feeling that tells you that you're the sole focus of someone's attention. You don't even need your eyes open to know it. In this case, I was barely lucid and I knew it. I opened my eyes to identify the person and was overwhelmed by déjà vu. Wilson was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes hiding any emotion. I knew I had to be dreaming, but I had no strength to think or ponder reality. My eyelids became heavy very quickly and I was unconscious again.

_He wishes you were dead instead of her. I saw it in his eyes when he came to visit you in the hospital. You saw it too._

I saw it too.


	3. Absolution

Chapter 3: Absolution

I opened my eyes slowly and was greeted by a familiar smile.

"You keep this up and I'll have to bring in a cot." Cuddy tried to maintain an accusatory tone, but her eyes expressed pure joy and relief. Her hair was a mess and her make-up had faded, so I assumed I'd been out for a while and yet again, she hadn't left my side.

My gaze drifted to the doorway and her eyes followed mine. "Is something wrong?" She asked, turning back to study my expression as I stared blankly ahead. I tried to sit up in the hospital bed, but Cuddy quickly intervened and leaned me back into the pillows. I studied the doorway, trying to find anything that would prove the memory false, while Cuddy watched worriedly. "House, do you know where you are?" She asked hesitantly.

I reluctantly tore my gaze from the door to the dean of medicine. "Did…" I wanted to ask her whether Wilson had visited, but I knew she'd start interrogating me. "…did anyone come to see me?" Cuddy frowned in confusion, still deeply concerned.

"Was anyone supposed to?"

"Um… no. I just wanted to know who to avoid." I lied easily, glancing back at the door.

"You mean Wilson, don't you?" Cuddy clarified knowingly. I hid my surprise, but she already knew she was right. "I haven't seen him since…" Her voice trailed off to avoid recalling the event. There was a silence between us.

"It wasn't your fault." She assured me.

_Yes it was. It was your fault._

"He just needs some time to grieve. He doesn't…"

_Blame you? Yes, he does. Of course, he does. He should. You killed her._

"House… are you listening?" Cuddy seemed almost frantic by this point.

"I don't blame myself." I lied again, making eye contact only briefly. "I'm fine."

Cuddy slammed her hand down on the bed, making me flinch. "Will you stop lying to me?" She asked angrily, her eyes full of frustration. "Stop pushing me away." She pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion.

"I'm not pushing you away." I answered forcefully, still refusing to look her directly in the eye. "I…" I tried to continue, but she interrupted.

"You told me to 'go to hell' before collapsing on the sidewalk…" She stated softly, proving her point. "I'm only trying to help you." Her fingers intertwined with mine in a comforting gesture. I glanced down at her hand before turning my gaze to the floor.

"I wish you wouldn't." I answered. She didn't reply and I suddenly felt guilty for being so mean. I never feel remorse…, yet lately it's all I've been able to feel. I don't want to push her away, yet I can't help it. "…You can't help me."

"Despite what everyone says, you're human." Cuddy spoke confidently with a weak smile.

"You sure?" I scoffed. She ignored me and continued.

"Humans have emotions. Humans are sad, outraged,…scared, and sometimes…" She paused, "sometimes they feel guilty for things that were beyond their control." I noted her words and, though comforting, I still felt like crap.

"I told you I don't blame myself." I know I'm a stubborn liar, but I really can't act any other way. After decades of keeping people out… after shutting everything inside so no one could see… I'm simply unable to trust anyone, even Cuddy. I was taught as a child that emotions were to be buried inside and that belief, after being drilled into my head, will never let anyone in. Though this trait makes me an excellent doctor, who can see past the lies and deception, it's also…a handicap.

"House…" She wanted to continue her lecture, but knew I would never listen, so she accepted defeat and took another approach. "Why were you at the hospital today?"

"I told you that too! I missed the clinic." I countered, hoping this conversation would be ending soon. She squeezed my hand tightly, holding back her impatience and vexation.

"How can I ever be expected to trust you if all you do is lie to me?" Cuddy asked sincerely. I felt guilty again, but masked any indication of remorse by rolling my eyes in annoyance.

"Fine…" I pretended to surrender. "I was going crazy at home. I needed something to do." _It's partly true, _I thought, suddenly overwhelmed by another bout of exhaustion.

"Well, what do you normally do when you have time off?" She asked, obviously skeptical.

I frowned inadvertently. _I hang out with Wilson, _I thought while trying to stop the clenching in my stomach. Cuddy noticed my sudden, pale complexion and held of her questioning. "I'm your friend and I'm worried about you." She explained, her words sincere and comforting.

"Don't be." I answered curtly.

"House… you were… screaming when you collapsed." Cuddy hadn't wanted to recall the incident, but knew she had to get her point across. My first impulse was to worry about my reputation, but then again I'm sure that's already been ruined by now. "I haven't seen you that panicked since-since the infarction and I think you were telling the truth about this being a symptom of something more than the head injury."

"What's your point?"

She sighed before continuing, "I think your body's manifesting emotional trauma physically."

I frowned, angry again. "What would you know?" I argued. "You're not even a doctor!"

Cuddy didn't shrink away like I thought she would. She stood her ground, unaffected, and when she spoke her voice was calm, lacking any venom. "You're pushing me away again." I wanted to look away, but simply couldn't. She pulled her hand away from mine, slowly, and then she stood. "I guess that means I'm right." She finished with a brief smile and then turned to leave.

"Cuddy…" The words rushed out before I had any time to plan my next move, "…about what I said earlier…" My voice faded in what I assumed was intended as an apology.

"It's okay, House. I know you can't help yourself." Cuddy understood what I meant, but still couldn't hide her disappointment. I didn't want her to leave mad at me. I didn't want her to hate me…

"No, Cuddy… I… I'm…" Cuddy watched me closely as I stumbled for the right words. "Thank you." I finally managed to say. She smiled in a genuine form of happiness.

"Apology accepted." She answered, knowing exactly what I intended to say. Cuddy is one of the few people I've ever met that can read me like a book. Well actually she can't really read the book, that's Wilson…, but she's fairly good at deciphering the illustrations. "Are you going to be okay?"

_I'm not sure, _I thought, but I didn't want to worry Cuddy any more than I already had, so I resorted to another lie.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"You better rest this time or I'll handcuff you to the bed." She threatened pointedly.

"Kinky." I commented on her interesting choice of words with a smirk.

"Night, House." She rolled her eyes and smiled in a manner that said, 'oh typical House.' I tried to remember that expression and preserve it in my memory… I suddenly found it frightening that my mind was filing away this moment as the last time I'd see Cuddy.

_What's left to live for?_

"Goodbye, Cuddy," I said softly as her figure retreated down the hall.

**I know that I've been focusing a lot on Cuddy, but I'm building up and I promise Wilson will come in later. I'm happily surprised at the interest in this story. Originally it was intended as a three chapter story, but it will probably be a little longer thanks to all the helpful reviews! It won't be an epic (unless that's what you want), but yes, it'll be a little longer. **

**Thanks for your reviews! They keep me going! :)**


	4. Perception

Chapter 4: Perception

I was still in the process of tying my shoes when he entered my hospital room. "I was sorta surprised you called me."

"For lack of a better option…" I muttered irritably. I had no interest in talking, but I knew it was inevitable.

"You know I'm sure Cuddy would've signed you out." Chase remarked, eyeing me carefully.

"Doubt it, and I've already seen enough of her this week." I brushed off the comment without much thought. He accepted my answer and left the room to talk with one of the nurses. He returned a moment later, a wheelchair in front of him.

"Procedure." Chase offered, as if I didn't know. He prepared himself for protest.

"Fine." I stated calmly, limping over to the chair without a fight.

"Wait…" Chase paused, openly surprised, "so you're okay with being stuck in a wheelchair?"

"What? Do you want me to be a pain in the ass?" I countered pettishly.

"No." He answered quickly, not wanting a fight. "I'm just not used to it." I rested my chin on my hand, expressing boredom. Chase rolled me to the lobby where I grabbed my cane and easily lifted from the wheelchair. I'm pretty swift for a cripple. "So… why'd you call me?" Chase asked, trying to hide his interest in my answer.

"You have a car and I knew you wouldn't turn me down." I responded quickly, leading the way out the door, ignoring the curious nurses in the lobby. I had driven to the hospital on my motorcycle, but had no interest in driving it home in my state. Plus, if I really thought about it, I wanted the company.

"Right…" Chase reflected skeptically. We found his car and settled inside. Chase put the key in the ignition and I knew immediately that he wanted to say something.

"Look, just drive." I asserted, hoping he'd keep to himself. Chase shut his mouth and I stared out of the window, my head throbbing again.

Unfortunately, the silence was short-lived and Chase had the audacity to bring up the one subject I had no interest in discussing. "I'm sorry about Amber." I turned my head slowly to face him, a frown on my face, obviously wondering how much he knew about the incident. Chase read my body language easily and answered my unspoken question, "I was your surgeon… I was there when you remembered everything and…"

"Now would be a great time to shut up." I cut him off and turned back to the window.

"He just needs time." Chase continued timidly and I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

"That's exactly what Cuddy said." I scoffed.

"You and Wilson have always made it through tough times together and you'll get through this." Chase was only trying to help and I knew it, but I'd already heard enough from Cuddy. Chase had no idea the affect Amber's death had on Wilson… and on me. We weren't going to 'get through this.' Chase was only trying to build false hope and that's not what I needed.

"I don't recall asking for comfort, but I did ask for silence. Shut. Up." I emphasized the words, hoping he'd take the hint.

"You're not my boss." Chase countered.

"But I'm still able to make your life hell if I want to." I didn't have the energy to argue.

The silence was resumed only shortly before Chase's fingers started to tap nervously on the steering wheel. I turned and gave him a dirty look.

"What?" He asked innocently. I rolled my eyes again.

"You should take a break from Cameron. Her annoying compassion is rubbing off on you." I commented, sensing Chase's obligation to help. The Australian sighed.

"I am." He muttered. I hadn't expected that and quickly turned to him with renewed interest.

"Really? I thought you two were like Ricky and Lucy?" I pronounced, surprised that the two lovebirds would break it off.

"Ricky and Lucy divorced." Chase responded to the 'I Love Lucy' reference.

"Not on the show!" I exclaimed.

"She…" Chase was unsure whether to continue, "she wouldn't tell me whether you two slept together." I tried to hold back a laugh. I somehow ruined their relationship without saying a word. "What's so funny?" He asked angrily. I shook my head and responded swiftly.

"It's a honor that you think I could hit that." I started laughing again.

"You're evading the question too." Chase sighed, disappointment highlighting his features.

"God Chase, if you really must know…" I exaggerated, still seeing amusement in the situation. "I didn't sleep with her. We never even got close." I finished seriously. Despite my jokes and insults, I think the two are meant for each other and I don't want them to break it off on any account, especially over something so stupid.

"Well that makes me feel better…" Chase uttered sarcastically. I frowned.

"She really cares about you." My words were sincere, yet he still doubted my motives and I can't really blame him.

"How would you know?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm House!" I exclaimed with mock hurt. "Have you forgotten my gift of reading people? It took her a while, but she fell madly in love with you… despite her better judgment." I added the last part just to see his reaction.

"Her better judgment meaning you right?" Chase offered, rolling his eyes. He was still not convinced.

"Nothing happened between us." I answered firmly.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"I don't have a reason to lie." I replied truthfully. Chase nodded and finally accepted my answer. I saw him smile briefly out of the corner of my eye, which made me smile slightly. _They're cute together._

* * *

"You sure you'll be okay?" Chase asked, looking around my apartment. I took my seat on the couch as Chase hesitated in the doorway.

"Well my apartment could catch fire at any moment, so no I'm not sure." I smirked and Chase, like clockwork, rolled his eyes.

"I mean are you going to be okay here by yourself?" He tried his question again. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"I'm not _that_ old. I don't need a babysitter." I glowered.

"But you are _that_ stubborn." He admonished without hesitation. "Promise me you'll call if you need anything?" Chase asked hopefully.

"Don't worry about me; although, I might call you so I can interrupt your make-up sex with Cameron." I stated knowingly with a mischievous smile. Chase's cheeks turned a bright red and he gave a shy smile.

"Goodnight, House."

"Bye, Wombat."

**Next Chapter: Illusion**

**Wilson will show up in the next couple chapters. :)**


	5. Illusion

**Rated T for Suicidal Thoughts**

Chapter 5: Illusion

_Welcome back._

"Here we go again. Everything's come full circle and now I'm no closer to an answer."

_Yes you are._

"Shut up. I'm going to drown you out with good old television." I reached for the remote and surfed the channels. "Cool, Shark Week." I remarked to no one in particular. I was utterly shocked when a hand grabbed the remote and turned off the T.V. I looked up and saw Wilson, hands on his hips with a frown on his face. I shook my head, shut my eyes, and turned back, but he was still there.

"I'm hallucinating, right?" I asked timidly, suddenly fearing for my sanity. Wilson's frown dissolved and was replaced with a calm, understanding expression.

"Yeah, you are." He commented, sitting down on the coffee table to face me. I stared at him, wide-eyed.

"So I have been hearing a voice." I said softly. Everything about this hallucination seemed so real. "Was I hallucinating in the hospital?" I questioned, referring to when I saw Wilson in my hospital room.

"I'm you. I only know as much as you do." I nodded and he continued speaking, "you were right."

"About what?" I asked, unsure as to what he meant. After all, I've been wrong a lot lately.

"Hallucinations are your mind's way of working out problems." He answered, his brown eyes fixed on me. I squirmed slightly and had to keep reminding myself that the man in front of me was not my best friend. After all, that statement alone was proof that this person was an invention of my mind because I recall keeping that observation to myself. I never even said it out loud.

"It's really sad when you can't trust yourself." I asserted.

"I never lied to you." Wilson explained with a kind smile.

"I know, but sometimes the truth is too much." I argued feebly.

"That's never stopped you before." My mind was telling the truth… that's the scary part.

"Can I ask you a question?" I never hesitate to ask questions, but for once, I'm not sure what to expect, especially from myself.

"Only if you know the answer." Wilson replied with another smile.

"Why am I seeing Wilson?" It felt weird asking, but I was curious.

"Wilson's always been your conscience." Wilson answered, his eyes scanning the room, "you need him."

"You don't seem as evil as I remember." I observed, knowing this apparition was also the source of the voice in my head.

"Well, we're on the same side now." He shrugged, seemingly indifferent. I was silent, so Wilson turned his attention back to me.

_Remember the bus? No pain…_ I looked up at him, knowing his voice was still penetrating my mind.

"I can't do this." I declared weakly.

"Yes you can. You stuck a knife in a wall socket for god's sakes! How is this any different?"

"It's different because… I know I'm not coming back from this." _And Amber saved me…_ That thought brought me to tears. I paged her before electrocuting myself because I trusted her. She saved me, she made Wilson happy, and I killed her. I killed her… I tried to brush away the tears, but they kept coming.

Wilson leaned forward and asked softly, "what's left to live for?"

"Wilson." I answered absent-mindedly, my eyes staring blankly ahead.

"We've been through this…" The apparition continued, but I didn't let him finish.

"You only know what I know. You only think what I think." I shook my head in realization. "I could be wrong."

"I've never lied to you. That's more than anyone else can say. Cuddy, Chase… they conceal the truth, but I…" This illusion was right. He never lied, but I wasn't finished.

"You tell me what you perceive as truth, but what if your wrong? If I'm wrong…" My voice faded. "There's a difference between lying and just being wrong."

"That may be true, but killing an innocent person… that's unforgivable." The apparition shook his head and I was angry at his accusation; although, I knew his logic was my own. "Whether it's involuntary manslaughter or premeditated murder, you're still going to jail." His tone was grave and sent shivers down my spine.

"I didn't mean for it to happen." I pleaded.

"I know." He offered in a comforting tone. For a moment, I was sure the man in front of me was Wilson.

"How does killing myself solve anything?" I asked.

"You should've died in the bus crash." He replied simply.

"I know." I managed softly.

"Then why do you need me to tell you what you already know?" He had a point. "You're place isn't here." Wilson added. His brown eyes held their usual, familiar compassion.

"What if Wilson cares. What if…" I felt I was losing this battle with myself and I was close to surrender.

"What if! What if she hadn't died? What if you hadn't gone to that bar? What if you hadn't called?" Wilson raised his voice angrily. I shrunk away, not expecting the outburst. The apparition continued in a softer tone. "It's too late for 'what ifs.'" I was running out of arguments.

"I can't." I announced simply.

"He's the only thing stopping you." Wilson observed. "Call him." He supplied, grabbing the phone and offering it to me. I took the phone from his hand and stared at it briefly.

"And what am I supposed to say?"

"You know what to ask." He riposted.

"I don't want to die." I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Yes, actually, you do."

"You're only part of me." I snapped, throwing the phone on the couch. I held my face in my hands, trying to block out the hallucination.

"Let me ask you something…" Wilson leaned forward even more, so I could feel his breath on my hands. "How hard are you really fighting this?" I lowered my hands and gave him an even glare, but I didn't answer because I didn't know. "You went to the hospital, yet you refused to tell anyone what was going on, even Cuddy. You want this." His eyes were sincere and I found myself shaking nervously. I looked to the door momentarily, hoping someone would come in to check on me. Cuddy, Chase… Wilson… somebody. The door didn't open and no one came.

"I don't know what I want anymore." I whispered, turning back to Wilson to find him gone. I looked around the room quickly, but found the hallucination had dissolved.

_Call him._


	6. Trepidation

**I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. House is hearing not only Wilson, but is also hallucinating the other voice from his subconscious, so this chapter is basically him deciding who to trust.**

Chapter 5: Trepidation

I had to wait until the final ring before Wilson was compelled to pick up.

"House! Why the hell are you calling this late!" His voice was harsh and angry, but I could still hear the grief and exhaustion hidden underneath. I figured he was sleeping as little as I was.

"I…" I started without thinking, but Wilson interrupted before I could organize my thoughts.

"If you want to talk, find me in the morning." His voice was so unlike Wilson. He seemed… uncaring and I could only imagine the deep scowl etched in his face.

"Wait!" I yelled before he could hang up. "Please." I pleaded.

"You're not exactly who I want to hear from right now, especially at two in the morning." Wilson had every reason to hate me… I just wish he didn't.

_You should be dead._

"I know…" I started, but I was suddenly unsure of who I was talking to. I couldn't decipher which Wilson was which, both sounded identical.

_Is that all you can say? 'I know'?_

"But I don't have until morning." I finished, hoping that answer was sufficient. The statement was enough to arouse some kind of worry within Wilson because his tone changed dramatically.

"House…" He started softly, "Are you okay? Cuddy called me and-" _Figures, _I thought. I should've seen that coming. I interrupted Wilson before he could continue.

"When Amber was dying…" His reaction to my words was not entirely unexpected.

"Shut up!" He yelled, but I had to know.

"…You wanted me to risk my life to save hers."

_She's dead because of you._

"I don't want to hear it!" His voice broke slightly and for a moment I thought he was going to break into tears.

"I just…" I could hear him putting down the phone, "don't hang up!" I begged, literally begged. He slowly brought the phone back to his ear.

"Why?" He asked, his anger masking any hint of sympathy. "I'm trying to deal with this and you're purposely making it harder." Wilson thought I was doing this to torture him, but he had no idea that her death had actually affected me.

_He wishes you were dead instead of her. I saw it in his eyes when he came to visit you in the hospital. You saw it too._

"One question. Let me… let me ask one question." I pleaded. Wilson sighed in defeat.

"Fine, but make it quick."

_Why don't you ask him?_

"Do you wish… do you wish I had died… instead of her?" My voice was quiet and sincere, and I could hardly recognize this vulnerable side of me. I had to know whether anything was worth salvaging.

_She'd be alive if you hadn't called…if you hadn't gone to that damn bar, but you just had to drink away your misery, didn't you?_

Silence. I could hear his breathing quicken, but he didn't speak and after this prolonged silence, he could only manage to say, "House…"

"Who was I kidding?" I laughed hatefully. "You're like everyone else in my life. You pretend to care, but in truth you don't give a damn." I sneered.

It was true. Everything was true. Wilson **didn't** care and he **did** want me to die instead of Amber. The bombs exploded in my mind and I was overwhelmed by fury, more at myself than Wilson. Because… how could I blame Wilson? I deserved this.

"I was right…" I muttered. My world had fallen beyond repair. "I'm such an idiot!"

_You were right…I was right._

"What are you talking about?" Wilson asked, confused by my incoherent rambling. I could hear concern and worry in his voice, but I didn't care anymore. I could never believe him after what he omitted to say.

_Wilson didn't seem to care. You still killed her._

"I finally pushed you away! I… I killed her." I found myself listening to the only person I could trust… myself. I was the only person who could see this for what it was without being blinded by false hope.

"You didn't kill her." Wilson declared with conviction, but his voice was distant and was drowned out by the conflict in my head.

_I've never lied to you. That's more than anyone else can say. Cuddy, Chase… they conceal the truth._

"Everybody lies!" I exclaimed. "You, Cuddy, Chase…" My voice faded as I found myself standing and trying to keep my balance without my cane. My knees buckled and luckily, I fell back onto the couch.

"House, you-you're scaring me." Wilson stuttered nervously. "What's going on?" He asked, still utterly confused at what I was talking about.

"What do you care?" I sneered.

_He doesn't._

"We're going to be okay." Wilson tried to comfort me, but it was too late.

"No we're not. We're never going to be okay! I'm never going to be okay." I rambled, my head was throbbing and my leg was in excruciating pain.

"House, please calm down. I'm coming over." Wilson begged, all anger forgotten and buried beneath his worry.

_It's too late._

"You're too late." I resolved.

"What?" He croaked out, hoping he'd heard me wrong.

_We're on the same side now._

"There's nothing left to live for," I stated simply, my voice became calm as I dropped the phone on the floor.

The war was over… and I lost.


	7. Destruction

**All your wonderful reviews have inspired me to update sooner rather than later, so here you go! I know it's short and it ends with another cliffhanger, but I'm working diligently on the next chapter, so I hope to update soon.**

Chapter 7: Destruction

The war was over… and I lost.

There was no turning back because I didn't want to turn back. I didn't want to live. I didn't want to fight this anymore and I felt no shame in giving in to my darkest desire. I didn't consider the consequences because as far as I could see there were none.

No one would miss the bastard, Gregory House.

If anything I'm righting the wrongs of the universe. I should be dead. Amber should be alive. I know I can't bring her back by doing the once unthinkable, but maybe I can offer some peace for Wilson… and myself.

Wilson doesn't care about me anymore and he'll survive. He'll move on and finally get a life beyond this handicap. Yes, I just referred to myself as a handicap, because in truth, that's what I am.

Irony.

He doesn't deserve this pain and he doesn't deserve to lose the remnants of his life for a worthless screw-up like me. I hold him back from a real life. I'm a handicap for Jimmy, Cuddy… even the ducklings would be better off without me.

I took a deep breath and swiftly pulled out my Vicodin. There were no more internal conflicts, voices, or hallucinations… just me and my pills. _I guess that's the will of fate._

Suicide suddenly seemed reasonably, even logical, as I poured the white tablets into my palm. I wasn't scared or nervous, there was nothing holding me back. I felt eerily calm and oddly… happy.

I stared at the pills, contemplating what, if anything, lie beyond this. "Screw it," and with that I downed them all. It was actually easier than I thought. One swift movement and there was no turning back.

I leaned back on the couch and waited.

_I'm not… I'm not going to kill myself._

I laughed at the memory. I may have been taking true delight in ending it all or I was slowly slipping into a drug-induced delirium. Either way, a genuine smile graced my lips.

My senses began to dull as the ringing of the phone fell to deaf ears and I suddenly found that the lights were dimming. A strange sensation, greater than any amount of alcohol, stripped away my inhibitions and spread through my body, but it felt nice… comfortable. It not only numbed the pain, but made all the pain dissolve away.

My phone went to voice-mail and I vaguely heard Wilson's strained voice calling my name. I laughed a little. I could feel sweat accumulating on my brow and I couldn't move. My breathing quickened and the room began to tilt. Exhaustion clouded my mind and I slowly shut my eyes.

As a kid I'd hold my breath as long as I could because I loved the peaceful feeling that'd overwhelm me. Now my body was gasping for air and the feeling returned.

Things were finally okay. Things were as they should be.

The last thing I heard was the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock accompanied by a panicked voice.

_Goodbye, Wilson, _was the final thought my mind could weave as my smile faded and I succumbed to darkness.

**Thanks for the 19 comments on my last chapter! I was ecstatic when I read them.**


End file.
